The tin is old and worn, the once bright orange dahlias on the side have been scrubbed to a mottled yellow or even further to white, there’s a ding on the lid and rust spots on the bottom.
And yet, of all the objects we sorted through after Grandpy died, it was the one all five siblings coveted. For love, and toffee crunch, had filled it for many years.
The logo on the botton of the tin. Own photo.
Once upon a time it must have been filled with Jacob’s Cream Crackers, for W.&R. Jacob & Co (L’Pool) Ltd, Biscuit Manufacturers, Liverpool, England is emblazoned across the bottom. Cheese and crackers, the perfect afternoon tea in front of the fire, with wrestling on the tv. At least that’s how I remember it, but the crackers from this tin would have been long gone before I arrived on the scene. Instead, my first memory is of it being filled with Nana’s perfect crumbly flapjack. Flapjack so good, that I almost never choose to eat it nowadays, for nothing can match it.
It’s toffee crunch though (or possibly toffee crispie depending on which family member you ask) for which this tin was famous for containing. Lined with greaseproof paper, stacked sideways with golden squares of deliciousness.
The recipe is super simple. My version is just thirteen words long. Apparently, I didn’t even think I needed to specify units of measurement.
Recipe for toffee crunch, Natasha’s version.
The secret was in the toffee. Mum was always on the look out for slab toffee (which normally came in 4oz packs). Werther’s Originals could, with a lot of unwrapping, be deployed as a slightly inferior alternative.
Heading back to university each term, I was presented with a large plastic bag of toffee crunch to take with me and after Nana died, Grandpy kept up the tradition, never failing to open the cupboard and pull out the tin to send me back to Leeds with sustenance. It never lasted long. One bite of the sweet, chewy, crunchy square quickly led to another and then another.
After Grandpy died we managed a fairly amicable split of his possessions. In the early days we put aside anything that two or more of us wanted and left it for a few months until the memory of his death had lost some of its sharpness that could have caused disagreement. Somehow, I ended up with the tin. It was only when I got home and opened that discovered Grandpy had been prepared until the end as it was full of the very last toffee crunch Grandpy would ever make.
With much gratitude to my Nana and Grandpy for all their love and toffee crunch.
We begin our family history journey at the end. There are many logical reasons for this, for after all, what would be the beginning? The generationally oldest ancestors? I believe I know something about eighteen 12x great grandparents who lived in the 1500s but far from enough to make their life interesting and what about the other 8,174 of them (endogamy aside)? DNA? Mine simply supports what I already know – my ancestors are mostly from Yorkshire. However, there is one other angle, that of surnames which can provide an insight into ancestors much further back than we will ever be able to prove.
In this article, the numbers born refer to the period from the start of civil registration, currently transcribed on freebmd (1837 – 1992 approx). The counts for the first seven surnames were taken on 3 August 2022, for more distant ancestors on 29 November 2022.
Jesse Houseman (Grandma’s Dad)’s signature at the end of a letter to his landlord. 1920. Own collection.
Born a Houseman, like my Grandma, I plan to die as one. Although I’m resorting to changing my name back by deed poll whilst my Grandma just married a Houseman. As the subtitle to my website notes “it’s who I am.” It is, though, only my second favourite surname. Largely, I think, because it’s already been well-researched and I am forever grateful to Gary Houseman who proved the link between my two paternal grandparents.
Whilst this surname is believed to originate from an occupation, from someone working at or associated with the local “great” house, it is relatively uncommon and highly geographically concentrated. 43% of the 2,651 Housemans born in England & Wales between 1837 and 1992 (as counted on 3 August 2022) were born in Yorkshire counties and of these there is only one branch who are not directly related. I was delighted to find that the one family in Yorkshire who are not related by blood can still be connected into my tree as William Shaw Houseman (b. 1848) who’s father, Robert, was born in London, married Hannah Smith, who’s mother was a Houseman!
Grandpy’s entry in my autograph book. 1985. Own collection.
By contrast, I’ve never felt the same connection to my mother’s maiden name. It crops up too often for me to be sure I’ve found the right family. There’s even a shoe store which carries the name. Our Barretts had the audacity to originate from Gloucestershire and it’s Norman in origin. Sorry Grandpy, I love you, but it’s not a surname that holds my attention.
Nana’s Booth signature at the front of her own autograph book. c. 1939. Own collection.
Nana’s birth name.
Many years ago I spotted a beautiful seventeenth century wooden tray painted with the names of a Booth family. £400 was an awful lot of money but I was severely tempted, convinced the family would be related somehow. Whilst I still hold a slight sense of regret the chances that the tray family were in anyway related is slim to non-existent for there were nearly 50x as many Booths born as Housemans.
Booth is considered to be a northern name (over a quarter of those registered births were in Yorkshire) originating from the old Danish word “bōth” meaning a temporary shelter such as a cattle-herdsman’s hut. We were cattle keepers, probably the most appropriate of our surnames throughout my paper history. It also accounts for the 2% of Swedish & Danish ancestry in my Mum’s DNA profile.
Booth is also one of the two surnames I planned to use if I was ever to write under a pen name, which leads me onto….
Ernest Moody (Nana’s grandfather)’s autograph from Nana’s book. 1939. Own collection.
Nana’s mother’s birth name and the other pen name I would choose.
From the Middle English mody meaning ‘proud, haughty, angry, fierce, bold, brave, or rash’ not grumpy as it is now.
I broke freebmd trying to work out what percentage of people had been born in Yorkshire, but in the 2021 census, Yorkshire was home to about 9% of the population of England & Wales so essentially anything over 10% represents a northern bias and Moody, at 14% is no exception.
But as for Moodys being proud & haughty? This was the most unassuming branch of our family tree. We’d obviously not inherited those genes.
Mary (Pollie) Wellock, Grandpy’s mother. From her date book. 1907. Own collection.
Grandpy’s mother’s birth name.
I love the Wellock surname. Most recently it’s enabled a wonderful Canadian adventure. Every Wellock alive today can be traced back to just two men. They are either descendants of Henry (born in the late 1500s in Kirby Malham) or of Robert (b. c. 1546 in Linton in Craven). The two are undoubtably related but I am always disappointed when a Wellock is descended from Henry.
Common thinking is that Wellock is a derivation of de Wheelock suggesting Norman ancestry, but given that the Wellock (or Walock) name is only held by those from Craven, Yorkshire, my interest stops there.
John Scott (Grandma’s grandfather) from his will dated 1920. Own collection.
Grandma’s mother’s birth name.
Ultimately it’s a man from Scotland. Which could mean anything. Weirdly, my Mum’s DNA contains a lot of unexplained Scottish DNA whilst my paternal Uncle’s contains none. It’s also the most common surname amongst my great grandparents. Combine it with John and you’ve got a genealogical nightmare. So I just feel grateful that I’ve been able to trace this line as far back as my 6x great grandfather, John Scott, born in the early to mid 1700s in Branton Green, North Yorkshire.
Martha (Handley) Clapham (Grandad’s grandmother)’s signature from the 1911 census. Own collection.
Grandad’s mother’s birth name.
The last of my great grandparents surnames is slowly gaining my attention. Growing up there were a lot of Claphams and I thought it must be a common name. But there were under 10,000 of them born between 1837 and 1992 and of those, over 40% were born in Yorkshire. Which explains why there were a lot of them about when I was growing up.
More interestingly (for me), I have Claphams on my maternal side too – my 5x great grandmother, Elizabeth Clapham was born in Lawkland about three miles from the village of Clapham.
Given that Clapham is believed to originate from the name of a village that could suggest a connection for whilst there are Clapham villages and (different) family branches originating as far away as Bedfordshire, Surrey, Sussex and even Devon, my Grandad’s mother’s family had been slowly tracking south and east away from the original Clapham village.
Could this be the elusive connection between my Mum & my Dad’s family trees?
Earlier generations
Going back to my 3xG grandparents adds a further twenty-four surnames. It seems I’m unlikely to ever find a familial connection to my friends Sarah Walker & Helen Cooper (being the two most popular surnames in my tree with over 300,000 of each of them born). There were fullers and coopers in almost every village from which these surnames derive.
There are some though which will be worthy of further exploration.
Stansfield, Furniss and Hinchcliffe are all relatively rare. They are locational surnames recognising people from Stansfield (near Todmorden), Furness (Cumberland) and Hinchliff (near Holmfirth) so it is not surprising that around 50% of these births were in Yorkshire. Each one might give me a hint as to where the families originated from. Each also has a number of different variants and the exact spelling could be useful in tracing my line.
I grew up surrounded by Beecrofts and they pop up on both sides of my tree so was surprised to learn how uncommon the name was both generally and in Yorkshire. It’s a locational name based on an apparently “lost” village named “beo-croft” meaning bee farm. Tracing potential locations in the region could help me bring together the two sides of my family.
Down to those names with fewer than 5,000 children born. Teal has my favourite origin story, as it is thought to be a nickname, meaning like a water-bird. One of my distant ancestors must have been graceful in their deportment. The Teal variant of the name is also strongly associated with Yorkshire with over half those born being from Yorkshire.
There were fewer Reynards born than Housemans. Reynard does not in fact mean fox-like, but rather a popular medieval story book fox character was given this name and it stuck. It’s a surname with a number of variants, but 64% of the people born carrying the surname in this form were from Yorkshire meaning I stand a good chance of bringing them together in one tree.
And finally, my favourite 3xG Grandmother, Hannah Demaine, keeps on giving. Surprisingly, given it means someone from the ancient French province of Maine, it’s a surname even more rare than Wellock and just as heavily concentrated in Yorkshire. The variant Demain, which I have also seen, only adds a few hundred births. This family of agricultural labourers are about as far from a Norman knight as it is possible to be and has whetted my appetite to research further.
There are a few more ancient names I should mention as being gateway surnames that have enabled me to reach back much further than I would otherwise have done: Wigglesworth, Hebden and Swale are all locational from Yorkshire. Pettyt leads me to a cousin, William, appointed Keeper of the Records in the Tower of London in 1689, who invented a wonderful family history claiming descent from King Arthur and might provide a connection to my oldest friend, Andrea (nee Petty). Finally, there’s Inglesant is a rare example of a surname derived from a woman demonstrating the strength of my female ancestry right back into the medieval ages.
And so it is that my beginnings reflect the end. It’s an (almost) Yorkshire story.
With much gratitude to Natalie Pithers for her two prompts, beginnings & surnames, which led to this blog and to all my ancient ancestors for picking such wonderful surnames.
Living almost halfway between the east and west coasts we had our pick of the best seaside resorts. To the west there was Blackpool with its illuminations and tacky souvenirs, Morecambe where the tide went out for miles and Lytham-St-Annes which I remember most for having a far smarter class of charity shops. To the east we had amusements in Scarborough, cliffs at Flamborough Head, eight miles of spotless sandy beach at Filey, the old school charm of Robin Hood’s Bay and of course Whitby where the best fish and chips in the world are to be had, together with a sprinkling of Dracula on the side. Each year we’d board the coach for the annual Sunday School seaside trip optimistically clad in shorts and t-shirts which would alternate visits between east & west.
Certainly, my great grandparents, Marion (Moody) and Arthur Booth did and for them it was almost invariably the west coast.
Marion Moody & Arthur Booth. Coloured via myheritage. Own collection.From left to right Marion Moody, Arthur Booth & Mary Booth. Coloured via myheritage. Own collection.
At first glance I thought these two photos had been taken on the same seaside excursion. Arthur is wearing his greige raincoat, pinstriped suit and carefully knotted tie. Marion has a dark blue coat with a jaunty collar, on which she has pinned a cloth flower, and paired the smart coat with sensible brown shoes. But look more closely and you start to notice the differences. Arthur has switched his rather swish fedora for the ubiquitous flat cap, Marion has moved her flower and changed the colour of her handbag. Broadly, too, the couple have aged. Judging by Nana (their daughter), I would say the photo on the left was taken in the mid-1940s, which would make the one on the right could be as much as a decade earlier.
Whilst the outfits may have changed and I can’t quite envisage Marion astride a donkey, I am not so sure our great grandparents’ experience was that different. Candyfloss, icecream and fish & chips with a slice of white bread and butter and a mug of tea still taste very much the same. Amusement arcades, risqué postcards and holiday snaps still keep us entertained.
A trip to the seaside was a pleasure eagerly anticipated.
By the time we reach the end of the 1950s, Arthur & Marion are back travelling without their girls. The pinstripe suit has been replaced, but not the flat cap. Marion has a new coat, but she’s kept with the sensible brown shoes.
Arthur Booth & Marion Moody. Photo coloured with myheritage. Own collection.
This was such an annual tradition that even after Marion died, Arthur took a final trip to Morecambe on his own sending separate postcards to his daughter and grandson which I found in Nana’s box of joy.
Nana’s parents, my great grandparents were modest hard-working people. They had both died before Mum reached her teens and I have far fewer documents and photos through which to reconstruct their lives. These three seaside photos represent such a small snippet and yet create a thread directly between their lives and mine.
I want to start by this blog by stating that whilst I am proud of my deep Yorkshire heritage I in no way associate with English nationalism. England has much to be positive about, but we have also, as a nation and as individual humans, wreaked havoc on peoples across the world and it cannot be right that to continue in the same xenophobic vein. I have not, as yet, discovered any ancestors who were directly involved with any historic atrocities, but I, and they, have still benefited from the privilege such acts have accorded us. We all need to recognise our own and our ancestors’ role in the system as was and more importantly strive to change it.
That being said, I’m now about to write about how Ancestry’s newest tool, the DNA sidebar, doesn’t work well for people with deep, known, English ancestry. I think this matters more broadly. One thing the English have been good at is record keeping. For over four hundred years parish churches have recorded births, deaths and marriages, plus parish poor law guardians took particular care to identify the fathers of any illegitimate children. Ancestry can’t be short of people to include within their sample groups, which should mean they can be more accurate than telling me I originate from “England and North Western Europe”. I only hope that Ancestry have instead focused their resources in adding to sample groups which can help those with more complex ancestry. Those with enslaved ancestors for example for whom so few records exist.
Each year I like to count the ancestors I have “identified”. It’s far from a perfect barometer of progress, making no reference to the depth of research. Sometimes all I know is a first name, generally Mary or Elizabeth. Nonetheless last time I counted (January 2022) I could identify 567 ancestors and I am also aware of other’s (quality) research that could help me extend this further.
Broadly the paper evidence leads me to believe I am 90% Yorkshire, 75% from 3 river valleys originating in the Dales – the Wharfe, the Nidd & the Washburn. Another 6.25% covers Wales and the Gloucestershire or the Welsh/English border. The remaining 3 – 4% is unknown but given where the babies were conceived there’s a high probability their fathers were from Yorkshire or surrounding counties.
In working this out I generally start with my 4xG Grandparents. This generation was born in the late 1700s/early 1800s when ordinary folks moved around less, and I’ve not found any evidence of earlier ancestors moving far. Indeed, they rarely even move beyond a neighbouring parish. One is unknown due to illegitimacy, one is questionable for the same reasons (both on my Mum’s side), four were from Gloucestershire & Pembrokeshire (equally split, again my Mum’s side). One, on my Dad’s side, carried the surname Scott, so some small part of him was possibly Scottish. That leaves me with fifty-seven (90%) from Yorkshire.
My DNA matches support the paper trail. I have found no unexpected parental events. I am a descendant of the left-behinds, of those who didn’t stray from home either geographically and sexually speaking. It makes me a somewhat inbred and my family history a little dull.
With background, let’s move to what Ancestry’s ethnicity data shows.
My DNA analysis
Ancestry DNA ethnicity estimate – October 2022
On the face of it my England & Northwestern Europe heritage has increased from 67% to 71% and indeed the range suggests that it could be as much as 99%. The regional identification is sound, but why not provide an estimate for this? Looking at it in more detail:
England & Northwestern Europe? That is a huge area and quite honestly belittles cross fertilisation within the Isles. Why are Scotland & Wales considered separate units and England not?
The range now runs from 63 – 99%. I could be just 2/3rds from Yorkshire, or equally, totally inbred. Ancestry’s best guess (71%) is considerably lower than it should be.
Sweden, Denmark, Norway – on first glance it could be as much as a sixth of my ancestry. The range runs from nought to a quarter. Yorkshire was, of course, Viking controlled, but that was over a thousand years ago when they controlled or invaded much of Northwestern Europe. This is where my doubts about the usefulness of this tool really started to creep in.
I turned to the parental splits being fortunate to have access to both my Mum’s and my paternal Uncle’s DNA which takes me back a further generation.
My Mum’s DNA
Mum’s DNA – ancestry October 2022
The Welsh ancestry made it easy for me to identify which of Mum’s two parents was Grandpy and hence which was Nana.
Diving into Mum’s ethnicity split it seems that Mum could be somewhere between 2/3rds and 99% England & Northwestern Europe with Ancestry’s best guess being 72%, fractionally higher than my own. Odd, as it is from Mum that I inherit both my known Welsh ancestry and that part of my DNA which could come from anywhere.
But then it tells me that Mum is also, apparently, 19% Scottish. Split 11% maternal and 8% paternal,
That would make my Nana nearly a quarter Scottish. Possible as she has two illegitimate great grandparents, but there is evidence to suggest who one of the fathers was and he has Yorkshire ancestry. Which would make the other a full-blooded Scot. The North Yorkshire/Lancashire border is not that far from Scotland. It is certainly possible. But I’ve also got to factor in my apparent Irish heritage of course making up about 4% of Nana’s DNA.
Grandpy on the other hand? The only reason he is not highest in my ancestor count is because I got a bit bored of adding others (quality) research to my tree. 10% Welsh, absolutely, if you count the Barretts from Gloucestershire, everything else is pure Yorkshire. I have no idea how he’s turned out to be 16% Scottish. Hence why I think the English/Scottish split is unhelpful. I am sure Northumbrians & Cumbrians would agree.
My paternal Uncle’s DNA
Paternal uncle DNA – ancestry 2022
My paternal Uncle’s DNA is the best substitute I have for my Dad’s. I based his parental split on shared matches but given how odd his own DNA ethnicity breakdown seems to be I don’t think the split adds any value. What’s interesting is that there’s no Scottish ancestry. Clearly the surname Scott doesn’t necessarily mean Scottish heritage. My Uncle is a Viking at heart so perhaps he’ll be pleased with Swedish, Danish & Norwegian genes.
I, on the other hand, am not, for both my paternal grandparents’ trees are fully documented for over 200 years. All 32 of my paternal 4xg grandparents were born in Yorkshire as were all of their ancestors whom I have so far identified (275 at the last count). It helps that they are (twice) descended from the same ancestors and rarely married outside of the parish.
Clicking in, the detail becomes increasingly lazy as whilst the ranges allow for my Uncle being 99% England & Northwestern Europe they also allow for him being 21% Swedish and Danish and up to an astonishing 29% Germanic European. Imagine if you were starting without a decent paper trail. These ranges would leave you criss-crossing the whole of western Europe.
In conclusion
It would be unfair for me to end this blog without referring to all that is positive about DNA testing. Through DNA testing I have been able to confirm the paper trail and have also corresponded with and even met some wonderful DNA cousins. It’s also helped an adopted friend who was delighted just to know that he was as biologically Irish as his adopted family helped him feel (although even in this example, it’s the specific matches which have helped us prove this). It’s just that, at best, the ethnicity splits, promise an accuracy which they don’t deliver. At worst, without a paper trail to fall back on, you could end up believing something which isn’t true.
I’ve been cautious about the 1921 census. £3.50 for each page. Half the price of a GRO certificate, double that of a will. And unlike both of those I know that it will be available within a standard subscription at some point in the future. (I am still considering taking out a premium subscription for findmypast – had they made this clear a couple of years ago I was ready to transfer my allegiance from ancestry, but since then I’ve invested even more in building my family tree on that platform, so it’ll be even more of an effort to transfer over).
I also had to manage my own expectations about what I would find. It wasn’t a helpful year for our family. Grandpy was a few months old, but none of my other grandparents had been born. Grandad arrived just five days later and Grandma the following month. Nana’s parents were not yet even married. All my great grandparents were around, but I knew where they were. Four of my great great grandparents would be missing, being four of the least well researched. I am grateful that the general strike which postponed this census did not affect the possibility of seeing the last of my great, great, great grandparents in the census as Martha (Handley) Clapham died on 29 March 1921. In other words, this census, unlike previous censuses, only really covered three generations about whom I already knew quite a lot.
I narrowed my purchases down to just the ten relating to direct ancestors alive at the time. One grandparent, eight great grandparents and twelve great great grandparents. Twenty one in total which is kind of apt.
Richard Walker, Mary (Wellock) & George Thomas Barrett
1921 census from findmypast including Richard Walker, Mary (Wellock) & George Thomas Barrett
Grandpy (Richard Walker Barrett) was always going to be the first person I searched for. And yes, it was super cute to see him recorded for posterity aged just three months. It also allowed me to tick off his parents Mary (Wellock) and George Thomas Barrett. But I already knew they had lived at Scalebar Farm in Gargrave when Grandpy was born and it wasn’t either Toft Gate, Greenhow Hill nor Upper West End Farm, Stainburn the two farms with which this family is most closely associated. I didn’t know that Uncle Henry had been born at Greenhow Hill which gives me a possible date for when they might have taken on the tenancy of Scalebar, but the rest of the data on this page is all well documented elsewhere.
Mary (Walker) & Richard Wellock
1921 census from findmypast including Mary (Walker) & Richard Wellock
Possibly the least interesting was that relating to my Wellock great great grandparents. I could have filled in this entire form myself.
Jane (Brooks) & Henry Barrett
1921 census from findmypast including Jane (Brooks) & Henry Barrett
Whilst there was nothing new to be learnt about Grandpy’s Barrett grandparents, Jane (Brooks) & Henry Barrett, it was lovely to see a reference to William Henry Barrett. William served his country during WW1. It was only a couple of years ago that I learnt of his existence for he died from tuberculosis in 1924 and may have disappeared were it not for census records.
Then there are visitors. Amy, a niece of Henry’s went on to marry her fellow visitor, Henry M Chambers, thirty-four years her senior, but not until 1930, by which time, Henry was 74 and Amy had been his domestic help for at least twenty years. Amy suddenly made it onto my list of sibling & cousin stories to explore.
Marion, Annie (Bentley) & Ernest Moody
1921 census from findmypast including Marion, Annie (Bentley) & Ernest William Moody.
Unlike our other grandparents, Nana wasn’t even a twinkle in 1921. Her parents weren’t even to marry for another four years.
The Moody family (Nana’s maternal side) was the second census I looked for, mainly to check out the lodger. There’s a family rumour that the youngest son, George, may not have been Ernest’s and whilst I have a different interpretation it was rather satisfying to find the same Tom Atkinson, who was with the family in 1911, still living with the family on Lodge Terrace. George was born in between the two censuses so if a lodger was the father, then this was certainly he.
Edith Moody at work. Colourised using myheritage. Own collection.
More excitingly still (and that which I consider to be “the” finding of the 1921 census) was the listing of Aunty Edie’s occupation and workplace as blanket weaver for Clayton Brothers, Coxley, Netherton. Finally, I was able to put some context to the photo I had inherited. These were factory girls.
Arthur, Sarah (Cooper) & Thomas (Butterworth) Booth
1921 census from findmypast including Arthur, Sarah (Cooper) & Thomas (Butterworth) Booth
On to Nana’s father’s family, the Booths. Whilst there is very little here which I didn’t know, it was good to have further confirmation of certain details such as Sarah’s birthplace where I had previously considered different options. However, Arthur’s workplace on a nearby farm is new and something worth doing further work around. Scales Farm clearly couldn’t support the whole family. I have an intriguing photo of Arthur as a young man together with a group of men of varying ages. As much as I would love this to be of Arthur, Thomas & other relatives, it is just as likely to relate to his 1921 employer.
Mary Abigail (Clapham) & George Houseman, Mary Ann (Wilkinson) & Samuel Clapham
Figure 52: 1921 census from findmypast including Mary Abigail (Clapham) & George Houseman
Switching sides to my Dad’s parents.
I perhaps shouldn’t have such low expectations of Grandad’s family given that it is through Grandad that I have found both a proven link to women’s suffrage through Martha Clapham (aka Maria Greevz) and a rather more spurious link to royalty but the 1921 census did nothing to help change my opinion. If only Grandad had been born five days earlier.
Mary Abigail (Clapham) & George Houseman (Grandad’s parents) are to be found at Fairfield Farm with their children. George was the oldest of my great grandparents by some fifteen years, so it is no surprise that both his parents had died more than a decade earlier. Mary Abigail was the next youngest and her parents Mary Ann (Wilkinson) and Samuel Clapham are both to be found farming at North Rigton.
1921 census from findmypast including Mary Ann (Wilkinson) & Samuel Clapham
Hilda Mary (Scott) & Jesse Houseman
1921 census from findmypast including Hilda Mary (Scott) & Jesse Houseman
Grandma was born just over a month after the census was taken. I do rather smile at her mother, the rather smart Hilda Mary, being caught on paper at eight months pregnant – I feel certain she would never have allowed herself to be photographed at this stage. But rather more importantly are the birthplaces of Grandma’s older sisters, Muriel (born in Thirsk, home of Hilda’s parents) & Jessie (born in Birstwith) plus the actual recorded address (Park Head, Norwood). There’s potentially more movement in Hilda & Jesse’s early married years than Grandma either knew or properly recorded.
Maria (Reynard) Scott
Figure 55: 1921 census from findmypast including Maria (Reynard) Scott
Of all my great, great grandparents, Maria (Reynard) & John Scott were the only pair who came close to being upper middle class. Remember this was the generation who were born twenty years into Queen Victoria’s reign, class mattered, and Maria epitomised this age. It is from her I have inherited the classic middle-class Victorian photo album (for which I am very grateful!). Hilda, her daughter, though always smart, was also quoted, by my Grandma, to have “married down”. Here, in 1921, we see Maria in her element. She’s my only female ancestor to head a household in this census, proudly describing herself as “head” and “farmer” and her son as only “farm manager” working for “Mrs Scott.” Her husband, John, had been dead for a year and there was no sense of handing over control here.
This census also neatly links in the Housemans. Whilst I already know that Maria’s daughter, Laura, married her sister’s husband’s uncle, future generations may not and the 1921 neatly demonstrates a sister who is also an aunt.
Amelia (Bradbury) Houseman
1921 census from findmypast including Amelia (Bradbury) Houseman
I am pretty certain that Grandma inherited her matriarchal tendencies from both her Grandmothers but Amelia (Bradbury) Houseman’s appearance in the 1921 census completely cloaks this.
I end this tour with the most unfairly represented of all my ancestors in the 1921 census. Amelia was rightly recorded as retired and living with her daughter and son-in-law, at Lime Street in Harrogate, where she was to live for the remainder of her life. The census says nothing of the thirty years following her husband’s death during which she continued to run the family farm both alone and in partnership with one or more of her sons. It is also silent of her fight against the 1920 rent increases which ultimately forced her to retire and left her, as a woman, disenfranchised in the 1922 election, the first in which women could vote.
Are the 1921 censuses worth the money? I can only speak to someone who knew a lot about her twenty-one ancestors who were living at the time. Two (Maria (Reynard) Scott & Amelia (Bradbury) Houseman) reinforced the impression I have held, that the women in our family have always been matriarchs. Two (Hilda Mary (Scott) & Jesse Houseman and Arthur Booth) will lead me to better map the places my ancestors lived and worked). One (that of Jane (Brooks) & Henry Barrett containing Amy Barrett) leads me to an intriguing story, albeit of a cousin, and one (that of the Moodys) was pure gold – helping both confirm the lodger of family legend and explain an intriguing photo.
With much gratitude to Natalie Pithers who runs the Curious Descendants for setting twenty-one as today’s challenge.
I have four decades of my own memorabilia stuffed haphazardly into three large plastic boxes. Every so often I pull out a pile of stuff and discard just enough of my random keepsakes (such as tickets to events I don’t remember and birthday cards without special meaning) to squeeze in what I’ve saved over from recent months. Despite their chaotic nature I still find myself delving into these boxes to find something that is relevant to my life right now. The night Queenie died I tipped all three boxes onto the floor of my living room to hunt for royal souvenirs and that’s when I realised it was time to bring the same order to my own archive as I was with those of my ancestors. Well, almost, the papers are now at least divided into “eras.” More excitingly I found a whole pile of family history treasures I’d inherited & forgotten about over the years including an unassuming box labelled “Elton Bond.”
Nana’s box of joy. Own photo.
Unassuming as my Nana (Mary Booth) was perhaps it’s appropriate. For this small dusty box turned out to be, like Nana, full of joy, memories of all those people she held dear during special periods of her & their lives. It covers a period of approximately thirty years from 1942 to 1973 and includes a few pieces that have left me wanting to know more. This blog is broadly in the order in which I unearthed its contents rather than being chronological. I make no apologies for its length as it’s just so full of gems.
Join me as we explore its contents.
A dummy. Own photo.
I’m guessing this dummy belonged to Uncle Richard, Nana’s first born. This is how I knew this was a box of happy memories for Richard was a young man of promise who died before his time, aged just 22, and there is nothing in the box to remind Nana of his end.
Invites and a letter from 1942 – 1943. Own collection.
These three items from 1942/3 are the most intriguing in the box. First is a letter written to Mary about a skirt in February 1942. Was it C Babbs, or the skirt, or a reference to having left school which led Nana to keep this letter? Then there was a ticket for “Romany” to which school children were admitted for 6d on 25 April 1942. Was the event itself special or something that happened there? Finally an invite from the Ilkley Youth council to a Social Evening & Dance addressed Miss M Booth, Netherwood, Ilkley in 1943. I wondered who the fifteen-year-old Mary was living with at the time as this was not her parents’ address. And who it was she met there that might have caused her to keep the letter. I’m pretty sure that Grandpy wasn’t yet on the scene.
There’s one more letter from the pre-marriage period. A newsy piece from Maureen of 3 Kimberley Street, Ilkley dated 7 February 1946 with some wonderful snippets. “How is the old engaged couple getting on? I hope Hilda won’t welt me one when she see’s me” and “You’d better behave yourself all these boy friends of yours Walker will be telling you off.” An ex-work colleague who I hope might one day help me identify exactly which establishment in Ilkley helped my Nana learn her trade.
Postcards from Arthur Booth. Own collection.
Two cards arrived at Upper West End Farm, Stainburn in September 1962 from Nana’s father, Arthur Booth. It was both the year after his wife, Nana’s Mum, had died and the year before he, too, passed away. One last holiday very different from the rest. One card was addressed to his daughter and son-in-law, the other to his grandson, Richard. It’s not difficult to guess which is which!
An invitation to Dad’s 21st. Own collection.
I’m not quite sure how Mum’s invite to Dad’s 21st ended up in Nana’s box of joy but it led me to learning a lot more about their engagement which was formally shared with the world at the YFC County Rally in the summer of 1972 being the anniversary of when they first became a couple. Young Farmers has a lot to answer for.
A postcard from Mum & Dad’s honeymoon. Own collection.
Which is why follows a postcard from Mum & Dad’s honeymoon in June 1973. Apparently, it’s a good job the left the accommodation in Dockray early as they’d only just enough cash to pay for the nights they had stayed. Mum elaborated “We were going to see Cassie as she was meant to be my bridesmaid (and go to her first wedding) but got the ‘kissing’ disease (glandular fever) and was too ill to come.”
A postcard from Jenny Barrett. Own collection.
It is to my Mum’s paternal cousin, Jennifer “Jenny” Barrett, that I owe half of the credit for my first name (the other half of that credit belonging to my Mum’s maternal cousin Jennifer “Jenn” nee Nelson). Jenny Barrett has also sent me so much amazing family history paraphernalia so I was delighted she appeared in this collection. Was this a special holiday?
A wedding gift tag. Own collection.
Talking of Jennifers – it doesn’t surprise me which gift tag Nana kept in this box of joy, one from the, not yet one year old, twin daughters of her beloved sister Hilda, Joan & Jenn.
Wedding card from Aunty Edie & Uncle Charlie. Own collection.
There is also only one wedding card in the box. Aunty Edie became as close to a grandmother as a great aunt could be to my Mum after Nana’s own mother, Edie’s sister, Marion, died in 1961.
Wedding mementos. A pouch from her wedding ring and a receipt from the honeymoon. Own collection.
Staying with a wedding theme, next up are the wedding mementos. There’s a blog to be written comparing the cost of my Nana & Grandpy and Grandma & Grandad’s weddings with my own and far more joyful than that of funeral receipts I have inherited (although that, too, might make it to a blog in future….).
My favourite items amongst the receipts and charms are these two. A pouch, which I assume contained Nana’s wedding ring and a tattered receipt for teas and coffees on 5 June 1948 at the Bowes Moor Hotel. This had me scratching my head, why did Nana have a receipt for four teas and coffees from a hotel near Barnard Castle on the day of her wedding? Until I realised this must be in fact four shillings not four drinks and they were on honeymoon!
Card from Grandpy to Nana. Own collection.
I couldn’t decide whether Nana kept this 1959 postcard from Grandpy because he’d had “a grand day”, because it was the first night they’d spent time apart since marrying or because she’d been forced to pay a 1d charge to receive it!
What’s left is an interesting collection.
A letter from Mary (Ramsden) Booth to her daughter-in-law on the occasion of her engagement. Own collection.
First there’s a letter from “Aunty Mary” aka Mary Ramsden, wife of Nana’s uncle, Johnny Booth. Mary had a special way with words recognised locally through the publication of her poems in the Wharfedale & Airedale Observer.
Within her book of “Selected Poems” published in 1990 are two which hold a special place in my heart. The first celebrated my Uncle Richard after his early death. The second, “Your Empty Chair” was written following the death of Uncle Jonny and I found considerable solace in after my own husband died.
I still wonder though if this letter only made the cut because of the recipe for Melting Moments captured on the back 😉
Postcard from Arthur & Marion Booth to their prospective son-in-law, Grandpy. Own collection.
Then there is a postcard to Grandpy from his prospective in-laws just two weeks before the wedding. What were they trying to say?
Postcard from great grandfather, Arthur Booth, to his sister-in-law, Edith Moody.
Continuing on the theme of cheeky postcards, I have by now I’ve started to get a sense of my great grandfather, Arthur’s, handwriting and sense of humour. Arthur married Marion in 1925. Marion’s sister, Edith was not to marry Charles Hardy for another decade. I’ve speculated before that Edith may have been kept at home to help, free to marry only after her mother died. Dating this card might well provide a clue. Either way I can see that Grandpy may well have shared a joke with his father-in-law……
Finally, there’s the handkerchief. Mum & I have debated this one. Nana’s WI trips were to The Netherlands and Norway rather than Belgium and as Mum put it “Aunty Hilda helped Mum choose between Dad and Richard Greenwood – no Belgians!” so we didn’t think it was a sweetheart. Was it a gift from a female friend? Nana’s big sister Hilda is conspicuously absent from this box. She was also the more adventurous of the two sisters, so whatever the story behind it I’m going to associate with Aunty Hilda from now.
A painted hanky. Own photo.
I hope you enjoyed this brief peek into Nana’s life, I know I did even if it’s left me with more questions than answers! With much love & gratitude for my Nana who created such a wonderful collection.
A tapestry I made as a child, found as I dug out my royal memories.
“Monday, Lord Chamberlain’s address in BP. This was fabulous.Walking in the main gate + across the central square, the state apartments. Then listening to Start as part of the main address. Then the reception. The state apartments are so sumptuous.We were about to move rooms & then saw them coming towards us. We quickly realised we’d get Prince Philip which was cool in its own right. He asked us all one by one where we were for Christmas with no real interest in the answer. But he does look younger in person than he does on film for his 89 years.+ then one of her majesty’s aides lined us up + we were introduced to the Queen! She was lovely (although more interested in royal collection marble than PoW ‘Start.’ So grandma like + gracious. Although her hands were less glam than expected. She spoke about dodgy marble + I said how lovely. I went home singing + told stories”.
Verbatim from my diary, written on 16 December 2011 about the day I became the only person in my family to meet the Queen in person and perhaps the only one to have met a reigning monarch. (Sisters-in-law excluded).
Here follow’s a swift roundup of our family’s love of & connection to the Queen in memory of a beloved monarch. May she rest in peace.
Scarf from Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. Belonging to either Nana or her mother, Marian Moody. Now proudly owned by my Mum.
Nana (Mary Booth) was an ardent Queenie fan. So much so that when her only daughter, my mother, was born in 1952 there was only one name she could call her, Elizabeth. Aunty Christine (Dad’s elder sister) was equally as devoted. Although we no longer have the scrapbooks that both faithfully collected, they passed on their love of the Queen to us, their family.
Mum and Uncle Richard were born more than ten years after the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II’s father, King George VI yet she still has these momentoes scratched with the initials RB & AB to ensure they knew who’s was who’s
Farnley Hall held an estate wide celebration for the Silver Jubilee in 1977. My sister & I were presented with gifts. Mum had to win hers….
Next up was the Royal Wedding of The Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer on the 29 July 1981. By then I had started school.
A most special card written by my Mum to her in-laws living less than a mile away. Likely very soon after the birth of my sister in 1981.I always held out a faint hope that Sharon might become Prince William’s future bride. Which is perhaps why she still owns a thimble Or more likely it’s because Nana loved her thimbles as much as she loved the Queen.
We now take a 30 year interlude. Yes, we were excited about the birth of Prince Harry and the marriage of HRH The Prince Andrew & Miss Sarah Ferguson (how little did we know) and there was the frequently told story of how Mum cut the head of HRH The Princess Anne (in a photo of her presenting the 1st prize trophy in the NFYFC fashion competition to my sister, Helen), but the Royals did somewhat pass us by while we were growing up.
Until, on 15 February 2011, I started work in Clarence House as the project manager for Start, an initiative of HRH Prince of Wales charities.
It was here I really realised the pulling power of the palace. I have particular memories of sitting next to Sir Stuart Rose, talking about Yorkshire, hours after I had heard him on Radio 4 talking of his resignation as Executive Chairman of Marks & Spencer.
HRH Prince of Wales waiting to watch Jules Holland at the Start festival, September 2011HRH Prince of Wales with various executives whose companies were supporting Start including Sir Stuart Rose, July 2011
It was this role that led to the most remarkable series of Christmas parties. Clarence House, carols at The Queen’s Chapel and Buckingham Palace and the reflections with which I started this blog.
Unfortunately, I’d left just too soon to secure any sort of special access or insight into William & Kate’s wedding the following year. Already anxious that May Day Bank Holiday Monday was being moved to the Friday (it being my day of remembrance for Paul) I am not quite sure why I thought I could attend a celebration party where people were encouraged to where wedding dress for free entry. I pleaded widowhood and then later in the day changed my mind, cycling down to join the celebrations in Green Park.
Picked up in Green Park at a party I was initially reluctant to join.
Just as the Queen failed to head my edict that she had to live long enough to become the longest reigning monarch (damn Louis XVI for succeeding to the throne when he was four years old and ensuring the French will forever retain this title) Grandpy & Grandma both failed in my request that they live to 100 to receive their birthday card from the Queen. Fortunately Aunty Muriel (Grandma’s oldest sister) took up the mantle.
Aunty Muriel’s card from the Queen, October 2016
In a final ode to the Queen, Sharon & I decided to bid for a chance to join The Patron’s Lunch on The Mall to celebrate the Queen’s 90th birthday. Sharon is, I think, the staunchest Queenie fan in our generation and torrential rain was not about to spoil the most wonderful day.
The Patron’s Lunch on the Mall to celebrate the Queen’s 90th birthday. My favourite photo is not of the Queen directly, but rather of my sister Sharon keen to ensure she records her closest encounter.
In these next few hours, days and weeks many will remember the Queen. This is our story. Rest in peace Queenie. You have our family’s love.
(By strange coincidence, the last blog I wrote set out our purported relationship to King John. He “may” be our 25th great grandfather which makes Queenie our “cousin.” So be nice, we just lost a family member…..
The Women’s Institute (WI) movement has been inspiring women for over 100 years, providing opportunities to learn, to campaign and above all to connect socially with other women. This is the story of fifty years of fun and friendship enjoyed by Nana as a member of her local group, Farnley Estate WI.
Nana’s 50-year certificate. Own collection.
Nana was just twenty years old when she married Grandpy and moved away from her childhood home in Askwith to join her in-laws at their farm in Stainburn. It was 1948, petrol rationing was still in force. Jumping into a car to visit friends & family, even those just a few miles distant, was simply not an option.
Fortunately, Nana’s mother-in-law had a solution. What better way to introduce the Nana to some new friends than to take her along to a meeting of the WI? Farnley Estate had been formed just over a decade before and in that time had become an established part of the local social scene for women living in the villages of Farnley, Leathley and Stainburn. I doubt anyone guessed how much of a long-lived gift this turned out to be.
This photo, taken in Leathley Parish Room in 1977, is typical of Nana. She’s the woman in the red jacket (she was to pass her love of red onto her daughter, my Mum) with a beaming smile tucked away amongst the crowd. Photo from Daphne Baxter.
The Nana I knew was never one to seek the limelight and totally unconscious of how much she was liked and admired. Huddled in a warm coat and hat (village halls were draughty places) I imagine she stayed close to her mother-in-law through those first few meetings listening to “a demonstration of slipper making and rope soled shoes” and “travel talks from the dark continent.” I also imagine her quietly slipping into the kitchen at the end of the evening to help with any washing up.
It wasn’t long before Nana became more actively involved, entering the monthly competitions with some success. Her first listed win was for ginger biscuits in March 1949 and it’s no surprise that Nana, a dressmaker by trade, triumphed with her “apron from a shirt” in May 1950. Sadly, her entry in another 1950 competition “a perfect husband in 14 words” has been lost to time……
Photo of Farnley Estate WI’s 21st birthday celebrations at Leathley Grange, published in the Wharfedale & Airedale Observer on 29 August 1958. Nana is second from the left and my Mum is the child stood at the front right. Own collection.
In August 1958 Farnley Estate WI celebrated their 21st birthday in style at Leathley Grange making the front page in the local newspaper. Nana is standing second from the left in a wonderful polka dot dress which she likely made herself. My Mum, possibly toothless, is the little girl on the front right.
A WI jumble sale in 1989. Nana is on the right and the youthful one on the left is me! Own collection
This certainly wasn’t the last time Nana would involve her family in WI activities. As children we often went along to “waitress” at the legendary Teas on the Green, or my favourite, to help sort the clothes and bric-a-brac donated for jumble sales which meant being the first to spot a new jumper or book.
WI outings. The photo on the left was taken on a trip to Holker Hall (Nana is wearing sunglasses), the one on the right is to a place unidentified (Nana in another red coat).
Then there were the outings which Nana loved, and this was where I was in for a wonderful surprise. I had a vague memory that Nana had once had a passport and may have even been on a plane. When you consider that my Mum, her daughter, reached her mid-thirties before taking her first flight it gives you a sense of quite how memorable this must have been. Yet between us we couldn’t remember the details. Leafing through Farnley Estate WI’s booklet “Celebrating 80 years” I came across a photo entitled “a member’s first experience of flying” and there in the middle of the trio boarding the plane was my Nana on her way to the tulip fields of Holland, which is coincidentally where my Mum is headed as I write this!
From the Farnley Estate WI booklet called “Celebrating 80 years.” Nana is the one in the middle.
Nana gave back as much as she received. She was voted onto the committee and was to hold the role of Treasurer although never President and it is not surprise that her commitment was honoured twice, close to the end. In 1997 she was chosen to accept Farnley Estate WI’s 60th birthday certificate Estate WI at the annual WI council meeting in Richmond, and then, in 1998 received a certificate for fifty years of continuous membership.
Sadly, this story of fun and friendship was to end just a few months later. The minutes from 1 February provide a final testament to the love and respect in which Nana was held by the WI.
“A minutes silence was held in memory of Mary Barrett, who died suddenly yesterday morning. Members were very shocked and sad at the loss of a good friend and regular attender at WI meetings over the past 50 years”.
With much gratitude to Farnley Estate WI for the pleasure they gave my Nana and to Daphne Baxter & Sue Kerridge in particular for providing me with extra stories and materials, to Amy Johnson Crow for the #52ancestors challenge and Natalie Pithers and the curious descendents club for keeping me writing and of course to my Nana, who is much loved and missed.
My siblings & I have never quite agreed how to spell Grandpy (my mum’s dad). Is it Grandpy, Grampy or Granpy?
It seems, from recent consumer research into the names we Brits call our grandparents, that Grampy is now the more popular. Whilst I may have to concede Grampy is, in fact, a legitimate spelling, he’ll always remain Grandpy to me! Reading the research further I discovered that Grampy is particularly popular in Wales and the South West and my curiosity was piqued for Grandpy’s own great grandparents, Elizabeth Prout and Thomas Barrett, were born in Pembrokeshire and Gloucestershire, respectively. Could the name have echoes of distant ancestors? And what other grandparent names have we used in our family?
My sister Anna’s christening in 1979 taken in the garden at Hill Top Cottage, Lindley. From right to left, back row: Grandpy & Grandad, middle row: Mum, Grandma & Nana, front row: me, Helen & Anna. Own collection.
I was the first grandchild on both sides, so Mum was able to decide what our grandparents would be called. She had a Nan & a Grandma herself so decided on Nana instead for her mum. Grandpy was not, sadly, a historic echo but rather chosen simply as a name which was different and more fun. (As an aside Nana’s sister, Hilda, became Gam, which I also love). Mum’s relationship with her in-laws was undoubtably more formal and she avoided calling her in-laws by any name until I was born when she could refer to them as Grandma and Grandad. My nieces and nephews know Mum as Gran (as Nana will always be Nana, and Nan felt far too old), Dad as Grandad Bob and Mum’s husband as Papa Joe (of Charlie and the Chocolate factory fame).
An extract from Mary Wellock’s date book showing use of “Granma Barrett” to describe Jane Brooks. Own collection.
Mum’s grandparents were Nan & Grandad Booth (Marion Moody & Arthur Booth) and Grandma & Grandad Barrett (Mary Wellock & George Thomas Barrett). Grandpy, in turn, called his own Barrett grandparents Granma & Grandad Barrett (Jane Brooks and Henry Barrett), demonstrating conclusively that the name Grandpy did not pass from our Welsh forebears.
An extract from Grandma’s memoires “The Changing Years” referencing Grannie Houseman and Grandad Michael. Own collection.
Dad only really knew two of his grandparents. According to my uncle, my grandad’s mum (Mary Abigail Clapham) was Grandma and my grandma’s dad (Jesse Houseman) was Grandad. As there were only two grandparents, there was fortunately no need to add a surname. Fortunate as confusingly both would have been Houseman! Grandma always called her own parents Mother & Dad, perhaps reflecting their respective family status which is also seen in how she referred to her own grandparents. Her father’s parents were Grannie Houseman & Grandad Michael (Amelia Bradbury & Michael Houseman) and her maternal grandmother was simply Grandma (Maria Reynard) “a refined lady.” Strangely there is no note in Grandma’s memoires of her maternal grandfather, John Scott. He had died just before Grandma was born so she never knew him, yet her other grandfather, Michael, had died almost thirty years earlier and he was still warrented a mention.
With seven Grandads, a Grandpy and a Papa, four Grandmas, a Gran, a Granma, a Grannie, a Nan and a Nana in our family we seem to mirror the modern research. Whilst 68% of men are known as Grandad the women show more diversity with Nan coming in at 33%, Grandma 32% and Nana 24%. Once again, I am grateful to Mum for choosing a more unusual option as a name!
With much gratitude to my grandparents for all their love and to Amy Johnson Crow whose 52 ancestors in 52 weeks challenge encouraged me to publish this series of stories.
Infographic presenting the main research findings on what we call our grandparents, from the original press release.
Nana & Grandpy’s ruby wedding. From left to right, back row – Nana, Helen, Grandpy, Mum, me – front row – Sharon, Anna, David. June 1988. In the garden of Upper West End Farm, Stainburn. Own collection.
We are simultaneously both a large family and a small one. With four siblings and five nieces and nephews, a family gathering is rarely smaller than fifteen and normally much larger. Yet we have but one cousin, who is more than a decade younger than I. For many years my siblings & I were the only grandchildren. My grandparents were grandparents, not quasi parents, but I think this goes a long way to explaining why we were close.
On my Mum’s side this was even more apparent. Mum had just one brother, Richard, and after he died in his early twenties, Mum became a de-facto only child.
Nana & Grandpy’s ruby wedding. From the left: Aunty Hilda, Grandpy, Nana, Anna, Hugh & Edna Ryder. Opposite Nana is Helen, to her right are Dennis & Dot Beecroft and to her left Uncle Henry & Aunty Marian. June 1988. At the Smiths Arms, Beckwithshaw. Own collection.
That’s why when Nana & Grandpy celebrated their ruby wedding anniversary we were centre of the action. Anna is sat next to Nana, Helen just opposite them both. Mum appears to be the youngest adult as we sit surrounded by Nana & Grandpy’s oldest friends. There’s Aunty Hilda (my Nana’s sister), Uncle Henry & Aunty Marian (my Grandpy’s brother & his wife), Dot & Dennis Beecroft (who hosted my Mum so she could get married at Leathley church), Edna & Hugh Ryder (grandparents of one of my oldest friends) and Rosemary Briggs (nee Booth) (Nana’s cousin and bridesmaid). Lunch was at the Smiths Arms in Beckwithshaw. Soup appears to have been on the menu & no doubt a roast. There was cake at home afterwards, not in the cold, rarely used, best room, but in the warm, homely, everyday room.
Nana & Grandpy’s ruby wedding. Cutting the cake back at home, Upper West End Farm, Stainburn. June 1988. Own collection.
In the end it is not Nana & Grandpy’s faces I see in these photos, but a forty year relationship, a close-knit group of friends and a deep and abiding love for my mother, my siblings & I. With gratitude to my Nana & Grandpy for being such wonderful grandparents and to Natalie Pithers for her mini-challenge “paper – ruby – wood” which prompted this blog.
Nana & Grandpy’s ruby wedding. With Rosemary Briggs (nee Booth), Nana’s bridesmaid & cousin. In the carpark of the Smiths Arms. June 1988. Own collection.
